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You're Sure Your New Roommate Won't Be Like The Last One Who Wore Tinfoil Socks And Had A Tendency To Occasionally Urinate In The Refrigerator. You're Sure You'll Pass Math 106 This Time Around. You're Determined To Actually Join Some Clubs This Year And Not Just Sit Around In Your Dorm Eating Spray Cheese From A Can And Watching Youtube Videos About Cats.

-Patrick Rothfuss

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You're Sure Your New

Patrick Rothfuss

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You're Sure Your New Roommate Won't Be Like The Last One Who Wore Tinfoil Socks And Had A Tendency To Occasionally Urinate In The Refrigerator. You're Sure You'll Pass Math 106 This Time Around. You're Determined To Actually Join Some Clubs This Year And Not Just Sit Around In Your Dorm Eating Spray Cheese From A Can And Watching Youtube Videos About Cats.

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If You Fall, You Fall," Elodin Shrugged. "sometimes Falling Teaches Us Things Too." In Dreams You Often Fall Before You Wake.

Sought We The Scrivani Word-work Of Surthur Long-long In Ledger All Hope Forgotten Yet Fast-found For Friendship Fair The Book-bringer Hot Comes The Huntress Fela, Flushed With Finding Breathless Her Breast Her High Blood Rising To Ripen The Red-cheek Rouge-bloom Of Beauty.

Now It's Virtually Impossible To Write A Game That Successfully Provides Challenge And Frustration, And That's A Shame. We Are Going To Lose Something That Makes Scientists, That Makes Doers, That Makes Hard-minded, Witty, Clever People, And I Worry That Those People Aren't Being Made These Days.

You May Have Heard Of Me.

He Taught Only One Class: 'unlikely Maths'. But Since The Time Was Listed As "now" And The Place, "everywhere," This Was Hardly Helpful In Tracking Him Down.

Half A King Is My Favorite Book By Joe Abercrombie So Far, And That's Saying Something.

I Don't Feel Beholden To Follow The Real World At All. The Important Thing Is To Know Why Things Turned Out The Way They Did. You Need To Understand The Reasons For Events, Or At Least Be Able To Make Reasonable Guesses About Them.

It Is Quite A Thing. There Are So Many Men, All Endlessly Trying To Sweep Me Off My Feet. And There Is One Of You, Trying Just The Opposite. Making Sure My Feet Are Firm Beneath Me Lest I Fall.

Only Priests And Fools Are Fearless And I've Never Been On The Best Of Terms With God.

What Were You Thinking?" Bast Said With An Odd Mixture Of Confusion And Concern. Coat Was A Long While In Answering. "i Tend To Think Too Much Bast. My Greatest Successes Tended To Come When I Stopped Thinking And Simply Did What Felt Right, Even If There Was No Explantion For What I Did.

Its Like He Knows He's Better Than You, But Doesn't Look Down On You For It Because He Knows It's Not Your Fault.

All The Truth In The World Is Held In Stories.

The Second Was Some Rather Bad Poetry, But It Was Short, And I Forced My Way Through By Gritting My Teeth And Occasionally Closing One Eye So As Not To Damage The Entirety Of My Brain.

...it Is Better To Have A Mouthful Of Poison Than A Secret Of The Heart.

It's My Belief That You Should Never Show Your Work To Anyone In The Publishing World Until It Shines Like A Diamond. Rough Drafts Don't Shine, As A Rule. Mine Certainly Didn't. That's Why I Was Rejected For Years And Years.

He Was Giving Me Enough Rope To Hang Myself With. Apparently He Didn't Realize That Once A Noose Is Tied It Will Fit One Neck As Easily As Another.

It's Like Everyone Tells A Story About Themselves Inside Their Own Head. Always. All The Time. That Story Makes You What You Are. We Build Ourselves Out Of That Story.

You,” I Said, “are Sweet Music In A Distant Room.

I'm Pretty Good At Putting Up Drywall And I'm An Excellent Kisser. That's Pretty Much All Of My Skills Right There.

I Was Reluctant To Talk About My Kids On The Blog. I Kept Telling Myself, "people Aren't Coming Here For Stories About Your Kids. They Want To Hear About The Upcoming Books, Writing Advice, Conventions..."

I Know," She Said. "you Have A Stone In Your Heart, And Some Days It's So Heavy There Is Nothing To Be Done. But You Don't Have To Be Alone For It. You Should Have Come To Me. I Understand.

A Lot Of New Writers Assume You Have To Know The Where The Story Is Going And That It Flows Out As Molten Gold. But Really, Sometimes You Think You Are Going To One Place, But Then You Decide That Is Dumb Idea. Then You Go Somewhere Else And It Is A Worse Idea. But Then You Switch Again And You Might Have A Beautiful Accident.

She Was A Wicked Thing Sometimes. All Full Of Want. As If The Shape Of The World Depended On Her Mood. As If She Were Important.

With Slow Care Rather Than Stealth We Must Approach The Subject Of A Certain Woman. Her Wildness Is Of Such Degree, I Fear Approaching Her Too Quickly Even In A Story. Should I Move Recklessly, I Might Startle Even The Idea Of Her Into Sudden Flight.

On His First Hand He Wore Rings Of Stone, Iron, Amber, Wood And Bone. There Were Rings Unseen On His Second Hand, One Was Blood In A Flowing Band, One Was Air All Whisper Thin, And The Ring Of Ice Had A Flaw Within. Full Faintly Shone The Ring Of Flame, And The Final Ring Was Without Name.

I Have, Of Course, Been Called Many Other Things. Most Of Them Uncouth, Although Very Few Were Unearned

Name Of The Wind

I'd Love To Get A Chance To Talk Shop With Joss Whedon. That's Pretty High Up There On The List.

I've Got A Solid Grounding In History, Sociology, Anthropology, Philosophy, Etc Etc. That Means I Actually Have A Good Idea About How Societies Change And Evolve. I Know How A Lot Of Them Have Actually Functioned Through The Years. I Can Put Together A Culture That's Cool And Different, While Still Being Logically Consistent, So That It Feels Real. So Many Fantasy Worlds Are Either Implausible, Cookie-cutter, Or Both. Mine Aren't.

We Have More Brilliant Fantasy Novels Than Brilliant Fantasy Movies. Movies And Tv Are Done By Committee. But With A Novel, It's Really Just One Person Running The Show. That Allows For A Clarity And Unity Of Vision That's Pretty Unique, Artistically.

My Favourite Member Of The Beatles Is Lennon. He Might Have Been Crazy. But He's My Kind Of Crazy.

I've Got An Idea For A Modern Day Faerie Tale That I Think Would Made A Great Short Novel. But I Just Don't Have The Time To Work On It Right Now. I'm Way Too Busy With The 'kingkiller Chronicles' And Being A New Dad.

Anger Can Keep You Warm At Night, And Wounded Pride Can Spur A Man To Wondrous Things.

I'm Not A Big Fan Of Overt Marketing. I'd Much Rather Just Put Things Out There For People To See. I'm Just Putting It Out There For People To See. If People Think This Is Cool, I'm Hoping They'll Tell Their Friends.

Do You Know What It's Like To Run Spellcheck For Six Hours? It's Like A Party In Purgatory. A Party In Purgatory Where All They Have To Drink Is Sugar-free Kool-aid, And The Only Game To Play Is Monopoly, And None Of Your Friends Show Up.

My Granda Always Told Me That Fall's The Time To Root Up Something You Don't Want Coming Back To Trouble You.' Kote Mimicked The Quaver Of An Old Man's Voice. 'things Are Too Full Of Life In The Spring Months. In The Summer, They're Too Strong And Won't Let Go. Autumn...' He Looked Around At The Changing Leaves On The Trees. 'autumn's The Time. In Autumn Everything Is Tired And Ready To Die.

To Be Both Rich And Handsome Was Bad Enough. But To Have A Voice Like Honey Over Warm Bread On Top Of That Was Simply Inexcusable.

It's Hard For A Newbie Author To Get Noticed.

“i Will Admit, I've Never Had A Student Offer Himself Up For A Vicious Beating In Order To Prove He's Worth My Time.” “this Was Nothing... Once I Jumped Off A Roof.”

Coming To Grips With Being A Bit Of A Celebrity. That's Not Anything I Ever Expected To Have To Deal With In My Life.

It Wasn't Even A Good Note. 'if You Are Reading This I Am Probably Dead.' What Sort Of A Note Is That?

Name Of The Wind

Half Of Seeming Clever Is Keeping Your Mouth Shut At The Right Times.

Keeping Your Mouth Shut

I'd Like To Work With Some Of The Videogame Companies For The Simple Fact That They Obviously Need Some Sort Of Writer's Help. I Play Videogames, And Lately It's Hard For Me To Enjoy Them Because I'm Spending All My Time Cringing At The Corny Dialogue, Thin Characters, And Glaring Plot Holes.

Don't Get Me Wrong, Magic Is Cool. But A Nervous Mother Singing To Her Child At Night While Something Moves Quietly Through The Dark Outside Her House? That's A Story. Handled Properly, It's More Dramatic Than Any Apocalypse Or Goblin Army Could Ever Be.

If You Open The Door And Realize Things Like The Fact That Batman Is Occupying The Same Narrative Space That Robin Hood Used To Fill 400 Years Ago, Then You Have The Freedom To Ignore The Pointless "what Is Literature" Discussion And Just Talk About Stories.

It Was More Exciting When I Didn't Know I Had Permission.

Just A Little. Just The First Faint Breath Of Love... It Wasn’t Dramatic, Like Some Bolt Of Lightning With A Crack Of Thunder Following. It Was More Like When Flint Strikes Steel And The Spark Fades Almost Too Fast For You To See. But Still, You Know It’s There, Down Where You Can’t See, Kindling.

Re'lar Kvothe," He Said Seriously. "i Am Trying To Wake Your Sleeping Mind To The Subtle Language The World Is Whispering. I Am Trying To Seduce You Into Understanding. I Am Trying To Teach You." He Leaned Forward Until His Face Was Almost Touching Mine. "quit Grabbing At My Tits.

Soft Fantasy Worlds Have A Much Looser Cause-and-effect Relationship. Alchemists Can Turn Lead Into Gold And Nobody Wonders About How It Will Impact The Currency System. Someone Waves A Wand And Turns An Elephant Into A Mouse And Nobody Worries About Conservation Of Mass.

I Have Heard What Poets Write About Women. They Rhyme And Rhapsodize And Lie. I Have Watched Sailors On The Shore Stare Mutely At The Slow-rolling Swell Of The Sea. I Have Watched Old Soldiers With Hearts Like Leather Grow Teary-eyed At Their King's Colors Stretched Against The Wind. Listen To Me: These Men Know Nothing Of Love. You Will Not Find It In The Words Of Poets Or The Longing Eyes Of Sailors. If You Want To Know Of Love, Look To A Trouper's Hands As He Makes His Music. A Trouper Knows.

The Desire For Knowledge Shapes A Man.

I'd Like To Do An Anthology. Maybe A Collection Of Songs Set In My World, Or Based On My World. I Think That Would Be A Lot Of Fun.

Fantasy Is My Favorite Genre For Reading And Writing. We Have More Options Than Anyone Else, And The Best Props And Special Effects. That Means If You Want To Write A Fantasy Story With Norse Gods, Sentient Robots, And Telepathic Dinosaurs, You Can Do Just That. Want To Throw In A Vampire And A Lesbian Unicorn While You're At It? Go Ahead.

The Myth Stems From The Belief That Writing Is Some Mystical Process. That It's Magical. That It Abides By Its Own Set Of Rules Different From All Other Forms Of Work, Art, Or Play.but That's Bullshit. Plumbers Don't Get Plumber's Block. Teachers Don't Get Teacher's Block. Soccer Players Don't Get Soccer Block. What Makes Writing Different? Nothing. The Only Difference Is That Writers Feel They Have A Free Pass To Give Up When Writing Is Hard.

The Waystone Was His, Just As The Third Silence Was His. This Was Appropriate, As It Was The Greatest Silence Of The Three, Wrapping The Others Inside Itself. It Was Deep And Wide As Autumn’s Ending. It Was Heavy As A Great River-smooth Stone. It Was The Patient, Cut-flower Sound Of A Man Who Is Waiting To Die.

The Truth Is That The World Is Full Of Dragons, And None Of Us Are As Powerful Or Cool As We’d Like To Be. And That Sucks. But When You’re Confronted With That Fact, You Can Either Crawl Into A Hole And Quit, Or You Can Get Out There, Take Off Your Shoes, And Bilbo It Up.

The Seeds Of The Past Bear Fruit In The Present.

Right Now My Favorite Thing Is Working To Recall Our Absolute Shitbag Of A Governor. He's Been Screwing Up My State For More Than A Year. I Want Him Out.

Favorites Things

But It Isn’t A Rough Draft Either. The One I Turned In Several Months Ago Was Rough. There Were Some Bad Plot Holes, Some Logical Inconsistencies, Pacing Problems, And Not Nearly Enough Lesbian Unicorns.

Someone's Parents Have Been Singing Entirely The Wrong Sort Of Songs.

My Parents Danced Together, Her Head On His Chest. Both Had Their Eyes Closed. They Seemed So Perfectly Content. If You Can Find Someone Like That, Someone Who You Can Hold And Close Your Eyes To The World With, Then You're Lucky. Even If It Only Lasts For A Minute Or A Day. The Image Of Them Gently Swaying To The Music Is How I Picture Love In My Mind Even After All These Years.

It's Hard For Me To Take Myself Too Seriously When I'm Constantly Experiencing Firsthand What An Incredible Gimp I Can Be.

I Need You To Breathe For Me.

Each Book Needs A Good Beginning And A Good Ending. People Get Pissed Off When You Don't Close Things Off Properly At The End.

Sleep Marks Passing Time, Giving Us Distance From The Things That Have Hurt Us. When A Person Is Wounded They Will Often Fall Unconscious. Similarly, Someone Who Hears Traumatic News Will Often Swoon Or Faint. This Is The Mind's Way Of Protecting Itself From Pain.

Just Handle The Books Gently And You’ll Get Along Fine.

Feel Free To Call Me By My First Name: Master.

Books Are A Poor Substitute For Female Companionship, But They Are Easier To Find.

But Even This Piece Of Flattery Couldn't Distract Me From The Fact That I Was In The Center Of The Fae Realm, Blind, Stark Naked, And Without The Slightest Idea Of What Was Going On.

Music Sounds Different To The One Who Plays It. It Is The Musician's Curse.

The Chancellor Looked Down At The Empty Table For A Minute. Then He Shrugged, Looked Up, And Gave A Surprisingly Jaunty Smile. "all In Favor Of Admitting First-term Kvothe's Reckless Use Of Sympathy As Proof Of Mastery Of Basic Principles Of Sympathy Vote By Show Of Hands.

I Decided To Dub The Room With The Good Chairs My Lutery. Or Perhaps My Performatory. I Would Need A While To Come Up With Something Suitably Pretentious.

The Framed Tale Is, In My Opinion, One Of The Most Natural Ways To Tell A Story. If You Think Of It, The Conceit Of The Frame-less Story Is Actually The Odd Way Of Doing Things. Without The Frame, How Do You Know The Context For A Story?

Knowing Your Own Ignorance Is The First Step To Enlightenment.

After A Certain Point Is Reached The Numbers Cease To Matter, And All That Remains Is The Faceless Mass Of A Crowd.

The Boy Grows Upward, But The Girl Grows Up.

You Are Not Wise Enough To Fear Me As I Should Be Feared.

I Take Back Everything I Ever Said About That Boy Being Clever." He Turned Around To Face The Bar While Leveling An Accusatory Finger At The Closed Door. "that," He Said Firmly To The Room In General, "is What Comes Of Working With Iron Every Day.

So Stapes Conducted A Dinner For Just The Two Of Us, Then Informed Me Of A Dozen Small But Important Mistakes I Had Made. Setting Down A Dirty Utensil Was Considered Crude, For Example. That Meant It Was Perfectly Acceptable To Lick One's Knife Clean. In Fact, If You Didn't Want To Dirty Your Napkin It Was The Only Seemly Thing To Do.

Death Was Like An Unpleasant Neighbor. You Didn’t Talk About Him For Fear He Might Hear You And Decide To Pay A Visit.

Congratulations. That Was The Stupidest Thing I've Ever Seen. Ever.

Congratulations

Name Of The Wind

All Stories Are True,” Skarpi Said. “but This One Really Happened, If That’s What You Mean.” He Took Another Slow Drink, Then Smiled Again, His Bright Eyes Dancing. “more Or Less. You Have To Be A Bit Of A Liar To Tell A Story The Right Way. Too Much Truth Confuses The Facts. Too Much Honesty Makes You Sound Insincere.

I Was Just Wondering Why You're Here.

Humor Is Important. If You're Going To Tell Any Sort Of Realistic Story, You're Going To Have To Have Humor In It, Because People Are Funny. Clever People Especially.

Reading Aloud Sounds Like A Good Idea, But Honestly, It Doesn't Work Very Well. Good Dialogue In A Book Doesn't Actually Bear Much Resemblance To Real-life Dialogue. For Example, If You've Ever Seen A Word-for-word Transcript Of People Talking, It Doesn't Read Off The Page Very Well. The Trick Is To Make It *seem* Like It's Being Spoken, Not To Make It Speakable.

For People Who Don't Know, The Fundraiser Works Like This: People Donate To Worldbuilders And They're Automatically Entered To Win Geeky Swag In The Lottery. We're Just Starting Week Two And We're Already Giving Away More Than $40,000 Of Books And Games.

Elodin Looked At Me. "what A Remarkably Honest Threat," He Said. "normally They're Much More Growlish And Gristly Than That." "gristly?" I Asked, Emphasizing The 't.' "don't You Mean Grisly?" "both," He Said. "usually There's A Lot Of, 'i'll Break Your Knees. I'll Break Your Neck.'" He Shrugged. "makes Me Think Of Gristle, Like When You're Boning A Chicken.

I Was Heavily Influenced By My First Attempt At A Novel. I Started A Fantasy Novel Back In High School, And... Well... It Really Sucked. It Was A Plotless, Clichéd Mess.

I've Never Really Understood The Desire People Have To Quantify A Baby. "he's X Big And Y Long," As If The Baby Is A Fish You're Not Sure You're Going To Keep. Or Some Prize Potato You're Hoping Will Win A Prize At The County Fair.

You Know, I Could Have Carried You.

My Bad Luck Got Tangled Up With My Bad Decisions, And I'm Paying For It.

One Reason We Love Fiction Is Because Stories Have A Comforting Shape. They Provide A Resolution That's Lacking In Our Regular Lives.

Remember This Son, If You Forget Everything Else. A Poet Is A Musician Who Can't Sing. Words Have To Find A Man's Mind Before They Can Touch His Heart. And, Some Men's Minds Are Woeful Small Targets. Music Touches Their Hearts Directly, No Matter How Small Or Stubborn The Mind Of The Man Who Listens.

...if I Have Ever Met Someone Without A Single Shadow On Their Heart, It Was Surely A Child Too Young For Speaking.

Clean, Quick, And Easy As Lying. We Know How It Ends Practically Before It Starts. That's Why Stories Appeal To Us. They Give Is The Clarity And Simplicity Our Real Lives Lack.

It’s Not Over If You’re Still Here,” Chronicler Said. “it’s Not A Tragedy If You’re Still Alive.

Metal Rusts, Music Lasts Forever.

If The Beard Gives A Modifier To Seduction, I'm Guessing It's Not A Positive One.

Fantasy Is A Genre That Allows Me To Create Anything I Want. That, In Turn, Allows Me To Explore Any Sort Of Idea I'm Curious About. I Love It Because Fantasy Is A Genre That Asks, "what If...?" That's My Favorite Question.

I Always Read. You Know How Sharks Have To Keep Swimming Or They Die? I’m Like That. If I Stop Reading, I Die.

Simmon Pushed His Hair Out Of His Eyes, Laughing Boyishly. "you Can't Argue Your Way Out Of This One! She's Obviously Stupid For You. And You're Just Plain Stupid, So It's A Great Match.

We Understand How Dangerous A Mask Can Be. We All Become What We Pretend To Be.

...hear Rumors And Go Digging For The Painful Truth Beneath The Lovely Lies. You Believe You Have A Right To These Things, But You Don't. When Someone Tells You A Piece Of Their Life, They're Giving You A Gift, Not Granting You Your Due.

Nobody Cooks Using Just One Ingredient. Why Would You Write Using Just One Flavor Of Story?

Just Because I Tread Heavily On Propriety's Toes Doesn't Mean I Can't Play The Game When It's Of Use To Me.

All Explicit Knowledge Is Translated Knowledge, And All Translation Is Imperfect.

Now The Truth Is, Writing Is A Great Way To Deal With A Lot Of Difficult Emotional Issues. It Can Be Very Therapeutic, But That's Best Done In Your Journal, Or On Your Blog If You're An Exhibitionist. Trying To Put A Bunch Of *specific* Stuff From Your Personal Life Into Your Story Usually Just Isn't Appropriate Unless You're Writing A Memoir Or A Personal Essay Or Something Of The Sort.

I Walked Across The Polished Marble Floor And Sat On A Red Velvet Lounging Couch. I Idly Wondered How Exactly One Was Supposed To Lounge. I Couldn't Remember Ever Doing It Myself. After A Moment's Consideration, I Decided Lounging Was Probably Similar To Relaxing, But With More Money In Your Pocket.

When Someone Tells You A Piece Of Their Life, They're Giving You A Gift, Not Granting You Your Due.

Words Are Pale Shadows Of Forgotten Names. As Names Have Power, Words Have Power. Words Can Light Fires In The Minds Of Men. Words Can Wring Tears From The Hardest Hearts. There Are Seven Words That Will Make A Person Love You. There Are Ten Words That Will Break A Strong Man's Will. But A Word Is Nothing But A Painting Of A Fire. A Name Is The Fire Itself.

Unfortunately, A Lot Of Fantasy Is Chock Full Of Sexism And Racism. A Lot Of Authors Don't Even Realize They're Doing It, And A Lot Of Readers Don't Know They're Reading It. That's What Makes It So Scary In Some Cases.

After Two Years Of Sending Out Query Letters And Failing To Get An Agent, I Made Friends With An Author, Who Was Nice Enough To Introduce Me To His Agent. That Got My Foot In The Door.

Sometimes When I Get Up After Writing, I'm Surprised At How My Body Feels. Suddenly I'm Not A Lanky, Hungry Young Boy Any More. It's No Fun Putting On Ten Years And Fifty Pounds All Of A Sudden. Other Times, I Get Up And I'm Pleasantly Surprised That I'm Not A Weary Innkeeper, Hopeless, With Bones That Feel Like They're Made Of Lead. I Really Sink Into The Characters That I Write.

It Was Wise Enough To Know Itself, And Brave Enough To Be Itself, And Wild Enough To Change Itself While Somehow Staying Altogether True.

I Can't Count The Men Who Have Tried To Seduce Me Away From My Virtue By Teaching Me How To Defend It.

For Me The Really Cool Parts Of Being An Author Don't Have Anything To Do With Getting Onto A Bestseller List.

This Is How Deeply Rooted Stories Are, Folks. We Crave Them Before We Can Walk, And We Start Telling Them Before We Can Talk.

By Your Logic I Should Also Be In Charge Of Solinade Dances, Needlework, And Horse Thieving.

I've Read Fantasy My Whole Life. Quite Literally; My Mom Read Me The Hobbit Before I Could Read Stuff To Myself. So I Love Fantasy; That's What I Read For Fun, It's What I Read Professionally To Keep Abreast Of What's In The Genre - It's Where My Heart Is.

She Taught Me I Should Never Do Anything In Private I Did Not Want Talked About In Public, And Cautioned Me Not To Talk In My Sleep.

Music Is A Proud, Temperamental Mistress. Give Her The Time And Attention She Deserves, And She Is Yours. Slight Her And There Will Come A Day When You Call And She Will Not Answer. So I Began Sleeping Less To Give Her The Time She Needed.

Frequently, An Author Gets "orphaned" At A Publisher. What This Means Is That An Editor Buys Their Book, Then Ends Up Getting Fired, Promoted, Or Transferred To A Different Job Somewhere Else. It Sucks For The Author Because Suddenly The Person Who Liked Your Book Enough To Buy It Isn't Around To Help You Edit And Promote It.

Whenever You Write A Character, You Want To Make Them Themselves, You Want To Make Them Unique. You Don't Want Fifty Characters In Your Book And They All Pretty Much Act And Think The Same Except They Have Different Colored Hair.

That Was Another Lesson I Had Learned Perhaps Too Well: People Meant Pain.

In The Hours That Followed, I Learned That Ademic Hand Gestures Did Not Actually Represent Facial Expressions. It Was Nothing So Simple As That. For Example A Smile Can Mean You're Amused, Happy, Grateful, Or Satisfied. You Can Smile To Comfort Someone. You Can Smile Because You're Content Or Because You're In Love. A Grimace Or A Grin Look Similar To A Smile, But They Mean Entirely Different Things. Imagine Trying To Teach Someone How To Smile. Imagine Trying To Describe What Different Smiles Mean And When, Precisely, To Use Them In Conversation. It's Harder Than Learning To Walk.

What Are The Three Most Important Rules Of The Chemist?" This I Knew From Ben. "label Clearly. Measure Twice. Eat Elsewhere.

I'm Not A Stereotypical Professor Type. I Don't Smoke A Pipe And Wear A Tweedy Jacket. I'm More Like A Student Who Stayed At The University For So Long That They Gave Him A Job To Keep Him Out Of Trouble.

Why Are You Smiling?' 'i'm Relieved,' I Said Honestly. 'i Was Worried I'd Given Myself Cadmium Poisoning, Or I Had Some Mysterious Disease. This Is Just Someone Trying To Kill Me.

The Key To Good Worldbuilding Is Leaving Out Most Of What You Create. You, As The Author, Had Damn Well Better Know The Where All That Dragon Food Comes From, But That Doesn't Mean That I, As A Reader, Want To Read A Five Thousand Word Essay About You Explaining It To Me. I Don't Need To See The Math, But I Can Tell By The Details You Provide Whether Or Not You've Thought These Things Through To Their Logical Conclusions.

It Doesn't Eat Meat." I Said. "it's A Herbivore. It's Like A Big Cow." Denna Looked At Me And Started To Laugh. Not Hysterical Laughter, But The Helpless Laughter Of Someone Who's Just Heard Something So Funny They Can't Help But Bubble Over With It. She Put Her Hands Over Her Mouth And Shook With It, The Only Sound Was A Low Huffing That Escaped Through Her Fingers. There Was Another Flash Of Blue Fire From Below. Denna Froze Midlaugh, Then Took Her Hands Away From Her Mouth. She Looked At Me, Her Eyes Wide, And Spoke Softly With A Slight Quaver In Her Voice, "mooooo.

It Was Only Then I Realized I Didn't Know The Name Of Elodin's Class. I Leafed Through The Ledger Until I Spotted Elodin's Name, Then Ran My Finger Back To Where The Title Of The Class Was Listed In Fresh Dark Ink: "introduction To Not Being A Stupid Jackass." I Sighed And Penned My Name In The Single Blank Space Beneath.

He Hesitated, Then Lifted His Head And Sniffed. “have You Been Drinking?” The Question Was More Curious Than Accusatory. “no,” Bast Said. The Innkeeper Raised An Eyebrow. “i’ve Been Tasting,” Bast Said, Emphasizing The Word. “tasting Comes Before Drinking.

Chronicler Picked Up His Pen, But Before He Could Dip It, Kvothe Held Up A Hand. "let Me Say One Thing Before I Start. I've Told Stories In The Past, Painted Pictures With Words, Told Hard Lies And Harder Truths. Once, I Sang Colors To A Blind Man. Seven Hours I Played, But At The End He Said He Saw Them, Green And Red And Gold. That, I Think, Was Easier Than This. Trying To Make You Understand Her With Nothing More Than Words. You Have Never Seen Her, Never Heard Her Voice. You Cannot Know.

You Never Do Things The Easy Way, Do You?" She Said. "there's An Easy Way?" I Asked.

I Don't Really Have A Lot Of Expensive Tastes. What Else Am I Really Going To Do With My Money? Buy A Little Red Sports Car? Wear A Lot Of Jewelry? Build A Castle? Well... I Might Do The Last One. Maybe. Eventually. But That Doesn't Mean I Can't Run Worldbuilders Too.

My Thought Is, If You're A Book Lover, You're Going To Enjoy Winning A Book Even If It's Not Something You'd Ordinarily Pick Up On Your Own. It's A Chance To Expand Your Horizons A Little.

It's One Thing To Not Want An Evil-sorcerer Type Villain In Your Story, But It's Another Thing To Avoid Having Any Sort Of Antagonist At All. A Story Without An Antagonist Gets Weird Pretty Quick.

Elodin Proved A Difficult Man To Find. He Had An Office In Hollows, But Never Seemed To Use It. When I Visited Ledgers And Lists, I Discovered He Only Taught One Class: Unlikely Maths. However, This Was Less Than Helpful In Tracking Him Down, As According To The Ledger, The Time Of The Class Was 'now' And The Location Was 'everywhere.

Writing From A Teen's Perspective Is Easy As Pie. At Least I've Actually Been A Teen. I've Never Been A Woman, Or An Ethnic Minority, Or A Weary Old Man. If Anything, Writing From The Perspective Of A Child Is Probably Easier For Me. When I Was A Kid Everyone Thought I Was So Clever And Precocious. Now That I'm Adult, Everyone Thinks That I'm Kinda Odd And Childish.

I Think Authors Are Just Realizing There's No Real Reason To Feel Limited To A Narrow Set Of Genre Rules In Their Writing. There's No Reason A Mystery Novel Can't Have Fantastic Elements In It. Similarly, There's No Reason Why Your Epic Fantasy Series Can't Have Elements Of A Mystery.

Everything Said, You Couldn't Hope For A Nicer Day To Have A Half Dozen Ex-soldiers With Hunting Bows Relieve You Of Everything You Owned.

If Your Name Is Getting Too Heavy, You Should Have Kvothe Give You A New One.

The Truth Is I've Worked A Lot Of Things People Would Consider Shitty Jobs But I've Never Really Hated Any Of Them.

Beer Dulls A Memory, Brand Sets It Burning, But Wine Is The Best For A Sore Heart's Yearning.

It Was The Patient, Cut-flower Sound Of A Man Who Is Waiting To Die.

Do Not Mistake Me For My Mask. You See Light Dappling On The Water And Forget The Deep, Cold Dark Beneath.

It's Like The Query Letter Problem That I Just Mentioned, Magnified A Hundredfold. You Might Be Good At Telling A Story, But That Doesn't Mean You Know Anything About Marketing. Or Layout. Or Editing. Or Publicity. Or Selling Your Books For Foreign Markets.everyone Can Point To A Few Examples Of People That Have Done Very Well For Themselves Self-publishing. But Honestly, Those Folks Are Lucky As Lottery Winners.

Then I Felt Something Inside Me Break And Music Began To Pour Out Into The Quiet. My Fingers Danced; Intricate And Quick They Spun Something Gossamer And Tremulous Into The Circle Of Light Our Fire Had Made. The Music Moved Like A Spiderweb Stirred By A Gentle Breath, It Changed Like A Leaf Twisting As It Falls To The Ground, And It Felt Like Three Years Waterside In Tarbean, With A Hollowness Inside You And Hands That Ached From The Bitter Cold.

I’d Heard He Had Started A Fistfight In One Of The Seedier Local Taverns Because Someone Had Insisted On Saying The Word “utilize” Instead Of “use.

There Can Be Many Opinions On A Thing, But There Is Only One Truth." Vashet Smiled Lazily. "and If The Pursuit Of The Truth Was My Goal, That Would Concern Me." She Gave A Long Yawn, Stretching Like A Happy Cat. "instead I Will Focus On The Joy In My Heart, [...}

To Deem Us Simply Enemies Is To Lose The True Flavor Of Our Relationship. It Was More Like The Two Of Us Entered Into A Business Partnership In Order To More Efficiently Pursue Our Mutual Interest Of Hating Each Other.

You Want To Publish With A Publisher Because A Publisher Knows How To Publish A Book. And You Don't. You Really Don't.

Here's The Thing: Authors Live Or Die By Recommendations. [that's One Of The Reason I Review So Many Books On Goodreads.] Giving Books You Love Good Reviews Is One Of The Nicest Things You Can Do For An Author. What's More It's Good For The Entire Community.

I Have Stolen Princesses Back From Sleeping Barrow Kings. I Burned Down The Town Of Trebon. I Have Spent The Night With Felurian And Left With Both My Sanity And My Life. I Was Expelled From The University At A Younger Age Than Most People Are Allowed In. I Tread Paths By Moonlight That Others Fear To Speak Of During Day. I Have Talked To Gods, Loved Women, And Written Songs That Make The Minstrels Weep. You May Have Heard Of Me.

For Me, Language Is Something That I've Always Loved. When I Read, That's What I Look For. When I Write, That's What I Strive For.

I Took A Deep Breath, 'i Took The Nahlrout Because I Didn't Want To Faint. I Needed To Let Them Know They Couldn't Hurt Me. I've Learned That The Best Way To Stay Safe Is To Make Your Enemies Think You Can't Be Hurt.' It Sounded Ugly To Say It So Starkly, But It Was The Truth. I Looked At Him Defiantly.

I Don't Try To Take A Person Out Of Our World And Put Them Into My World; That Wouldn't Work. It's Sort Of Like Bad Photoshop: If You See Something Photoshopped Together - And Even If It's Done Pretty Well - The Eye Catches On It. That Happens A Lot When People Try To Cut And Paste People From Our World Into Their Fourteenth-century Historical Romance Novel.

I Have No Balance. My Life Is A Hot Mess.

Words Are Pale Shadows Of Forgotten Names. As Names Have Power, Words Have Power. Words Can Light Fires In The Minds Of Men. Words Can Wring Tears From The Hardest Hearts.

Fencing Is More A Sport Than A Martial Art. It Would Be Like Basing Your Knowledge Of Roman Phalanx Warfare On Nfl Football.

The Air Was Heavy With The Smell Of Leather And Dust, Of Old Parchment And Binding Glue. It Smelled Of Secrets.

On The Other Hand, Winning Awards Is Cool. Aside From The Warm Fuzzy, It Creates Publicity, And That Helps Spread The Word About The Book. Plus, This Award Was A Plaque Of Some Sort. I Could Have Used That For All Sorts Of Things. Obviously It Would Be Useful For Decorating The Barren Walls Of My House And Intimidating My Enemies, But That's Just For Starters.

She Looked At Me. "what? Is There Something Wrong With My Idea?" "it's Not Very Heroic," I Said Dismissively. "i Was Expecting Something With A Little More Flair." "well, I Left My Armor And Warhorse At Home," She Said. "you're Just Upset Because Your Big University Brain Couldn't Think Of A Way, And My Plan Is Brilliant.

I Don't Actually Have Cable. I Watch Tv, But Only Shows That I Buy On Dvd. As A Result My Tv Rage Factor Is Pretty Low Right Now. I Do Have A Real Distaste For Those Extreme Makeover Shows. I Once Caught A Roommate Watching One And Proceeded To Rant For Almost 15 Solid Minutes About How, In Watching That Bullshit, She Was Actively Contributing To The Destruction Of All Civilization.

I’d Heard You Were Dead.” "i Heard You Wear A Red Lace Corset,” I Said Matter-of-factly. “but I Don’t Believe Every Bit Of Nonsense That Gets Rumored About.

Stand Alone Books Are Nice Because They Have Everything All In One Tidy Little Package. Neverwhere Was Awesome Because You Get Action, Adventure, Character Development, The Exploration Of A Strange World, Plus Resolution Of All The Problems And Mysteries At The End. No Lines No Waiting. That's Very Satisfying. Multi-volume Stories Are Satisfying Too, Just In A Different Way.

Auri," I Asked Slowly, "are You Joking With Me?" She Looked Up And Grinned. "yes I Am," She Said Proudly. "isn't It Wonderful?

That Is Like Throwing Two Virgins Into A Bed. Enthusiasm, Passion, And Ignorance Are Not A Good Combination. Someone Is Likely To Get Hurt.

The World Is A Mess And I Just Need To Rule It.

He Then Proceeded To Shout At Alpha And Beta, A Sign That He Was In A Genuine Good Mood. They Took It As Calmly As Ever, In Spite Of The Fact That He Accused Them Of Things I'm Sure No Donkey Has Ever Willingly Done, Especially Not Beta, Who Possessed Impeccable Moral Character.

I Spoke It Soft, But Close Enough To Brush Against Her Lips. I Spoke It Quiet, But Near Enough So That The Sound Of It Went Twining Through Her Hair. I Spoke It Hard And Firm And Dark And Sweet.

So Yes. It Had Flaws, But What Does That Matter When It Comes To Matters Of The Heart? We Love What We Love. Reason Does Not Enter Into It. In Many Ways, Unwise Love Is The Truest Love. Anyone Can Love A Thing Because. That's As Easy As Putting A Penny In Your Pocket. But To Love Something Despite. To Know The Flaws And Love Them Too. That Is Rare And Pure And Perfect.

I Loved College. I Wish I Was Still Taking Classes Instead Of Teaching Them.

I Do This So You Cannot Help But Hear. A Wise Man Views A Moonless Night With Fear.

Auri Took It, And Peered Inside The Small Leather Sack. “why This Is Lovely, Kvothe. What Lives In The Salt?” Trace Minerals, I Thought. Chromium, Bassal, Malium, Iodine . . . Everything Your Body Needs But Probably Can’t Get From Apples And Bread And Whatever You Manage To Scrounge Up When I Can’t Find You. “the Dreams Of Fish,” I Said. “and Sailor’s Songs.

It's The Questions We Can't Answer That Teach Us The Most. They Teach Us How To Think.

Fantasy Stories

If There Is One Thing I Will Not Abide It Is The Folly Of A Willful Pride.

In My Opinion If You Have A Secret Compartment In Your Lute Case And Don't Use It To Hide Things, There Is Something Terribly, Terribly Wrong With You.

It's A Shame You Left Without A Word, You Know. She Was Just Beginning To Trust You Before That. Before You Got Angry. Before You Ran Off. Just Like Every Other Man In Her Life. Lusting After Her, Full Of Sweet Words, Then Just Walking Away. Leaving Her Alone. Good Thing She's Used To It By Now, Isn't It? Otherwise You Might Have Hurt Her. Otherwise You Just Might Have Broken That Poor Girl's Heart

Dawn Was Coming. The Waystone Inn Lay In Silence, And It Was A Silence Of Three Parts.

There Are Three Things All Wise Men Fear: The Sea In Storm, A Night With No Moon, And The Anger Of A Gentle Man.

A Poet Is A Musician Who Can't Sing.

We All Become What We Pretend To Be.

When You Love Something, You Have To Make Sure It Loves You Back, Or You'll Bring About No End Of Trouble Chasing It.

If You're An Actor, You Know People Are Going To Recognize You In A Restaurant. If You're A Rock Star, You Know People Are Going To Stop You On The Street And Ask You For Your Autograph. But As An Author? That's Not Something I Was Ready For.

I Was Pretty Poor For A Long Time. Not *poor* Poor. But College Student Poor. I Lived For Most Of My Adult Life Living On Student Wages, Then After I Got My Ma And Started Teaching, I Lived On Teacher's Wages, Which Isn't Much Better.

Isn't That The Way Of The World? We Want The Sweet Things, But We Need The Unpleasant Ones.

I Smiled,"deoch, My Heart Is Made Of Stronger Stuff Than Glass. When She Strikes She'll Find It Strong As Iron-bound Brass, Or Gold And Adamant Together Mixed. Don't Think I Am Unaware, Some Startled Deer To Stand Transfixed By Hunter's Horns. It's She Who Should Take Care, For When She Strikes, My Heart Will Make A Sound So Beautiful And Bright That It Can't Help But Bring Her Back To Me In Winged Light.

With His Eyes And Those Hands There Won't Be A Woman Safe In All The World When He Starts Hunting After The Ladies.' 'courting, Dear,' My Father Corrected Gently. 'semantics,' She Shrugged.

You See, Women Are Like Fires, Like Flames. Some Women Are Like Candles, Bright And Friendly. Some Are Like Single Sparks, Or Embers, Like Fireflies For Chasing On Summer Nights. Some Are Like Campfires, All Light And Heat For A Night And Willing To Be Left After. Some Women Are Like Hearthfires, Not Much To Look At But Underneath They Are All Warm Red Coal That Burns A Long, Long While.

I've Always Liked The Moonless Night Best. It's Easier To Say Things In The Dark. It's Easier To Be Yourself.

The Thing That Helps Me Do A Good Job Is That I Don't Feel The Need To Explain Everything About The World To My Reader. I'm Not Writing A History Text On The Four Corners. I'm Telling A Story That's Set There. The Setting Belongs In The Background For The Most Part, And It's Easy For Fantasy Authors To Forget That. That's One Of The Unfortunate Parts Of Tolkien's Legacy, In My Opinion. Read The First Hundred Pages Of The Fellowship Of The Ring And You Start To Get Pissed, "shut Up About The Shire's Museums! Isn't The World Supposed To Be In Peril Or Something?"

I Want A Magical Horse That Fits In My Pocket," Wil Said. "and A Ring Of Red Amber That Gives Me Power Over Demons. And An Endless Supply Of Cake.

Sometimes I Go Outside After A Long Stretch Of Writing And I'm Surprised It's Not Raining. Or That It's Daylight. Or That It's Not The Middle Of Winter. I Don't Know If That Level Of Immersion Is Normal, But It's Now I Do Things. I Like It. It Works Well For Me.

We Need Time To Relax And Enjoy Ourselves Too, No Matter How Dark The Story. The Occasional Humorous Moment Helps With That. That's One Of The Things That Joss Whedon Excels At In His Storytelling.

There Is Some Conflict Between Religion And Science In My World, But That's Nothing New. Science, At Its Root, Is A Rational Discipline. Religion, On The Other Hand, Is Fundamentally Trans-rational. Both Of Them Attempt To Solve Problems, But Since Their Methodology Is Vastly Different, They Can't Help But Come Into Conflict.

You Are An Educated Man. You Know There Are No Such Things As Demons." Bast Smiled A Terrible Smile. "there Is Only My Kind." Bast Leaned Closer Still, Chronicler Smelled Flowers On His Breath. "you Are Not Wise Enough To Fear Me As I Should Be Feared. You Do Not Know The First Note Of The Music That Moves Me.

I Was Nervous About Writing Slow Regard.

Some People Are Going To Be Impatient No Matter What. If I Wrote Two Books A Year, Someone Out There Would Be Pissed I Wasn't Writing Three.

What Do They Do To Students At The University Who Eavesdrop?” Bast Asked Curiously. “i Haven’t The Slightest Idea. I Was Never Caught. I Think Making You Sit And Listen To The Rest Of My Story Should Be Punishment Enough.

Then I Played The Song That Hides In The Center Of Me. That Wordless Music That Moves Through The Secret Places In My Heart. I Played It Carefully, Strumming It Slow And Low Into The Dark Stillness Of The Night. I Would Like To Say It Is A Happy Song, That It Is Sweet And Bright, But It Is Not.

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